


Last Year's Words

by carolinecrane



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 23:03:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6303634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence is heavy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Year's Words

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2008 for a challenge I *think* I ran, but I can't remember what the rules were. I was so melodramatic in 2008.

A hundred and fifty-eight hours. Almost seven days - that's how long the silence has been settled all around him, walls closing in on him and he thinks this must be what people mean by 'stir crazy'. He's restless, and it's not just because he's been working too hard on a big case. The lack of sleep doesn't help, but he's been grateful for the work because at least it kept him away from home.

That's all over now, though – they caught their guy, built a solid case and he should consider it a job well done. He should feel good about getting another nutcase off the streets, but instead he just feels…hollow. Because he's done, even his paperwork is filed and he's supposed to be home getting some well-deserved rest, but all he can do is stare at the ceiling and wish he was anywhere but here. 

Anywhere would be better than these four walls – this empty bed, drowning in too-heavy silence and wishing for something that's not there. Even another sleepless night in the lab would be better than waking up from a fitful sleep, reaching out for someone and remembering. And it shouldn't bother him, because he was alone for a long time, and he knows how to deal with it. He knows how to distract himself from the nagging ache in the center of his chest – he used to, anyway, but it seems as though he's lost even that talent, because he's been staring at the ceiling for an hour and the weight on his chest hasn't gotten any lighter.

This was supposed to be over by now. He's not supposed to feel this way anymore, and he can't help resenting it a little. He doesn't want to feel _anything_ , really, not if it's going to hurt this much every time. And it's stupid, because he's a grown man and he can control his own feelings – he's been doing it for years, so now shouldn't be any different.

Knowing that doesn’t ease the silence any, though, not when it's so heavy that nothing he does chases it away. He's tried music, tried the television and he's even caught himself talking out loud to no one a few times. That's when he realized how far gone he really is, and just how much he's letting it affect him. So he turned off the TV and the stereo, and since then he's been lying in the darkness, staring into nothing and counting each second as it ticks by. 

Nothing's changed, and maybe that's the worst part. Everything around him is still the same, books still on their shelves and clothes still hanging in the closet. Only there are a few less clothes than there were a week ago, there's a toothbrush missing from the bathroom, and even though he hasn't looked he knows there's an empty spot in the hall closet where a suitcase used to be. Hardly anything's changed at all, except that everything's different. Everything's wrong, because he can still hear that laugh and picture that smile, and when he closes his eyes he can almost feel warm skin pressed against his own.

He's exhausted, but he doesn't want to close his eyes, because as soon as he does it all comes rushing back in one overwhelming surge of emotion. Instead he forces himself out of bed, making his way out into the living room without bothering to turn any lights on. He's done this in the dark often enough, on nights when a case kept him out late and he didn't want to turn on any lights and risk waking anyone. Only there's no one to wake now, and he sighs as he settles on the couch to give the TV one more try.

But he can't stay awake forever – there are a lot of things he can control by sheer force of will, but even he's no match for basic biology. He remembers flipping through the channels, finally settling on some old comedy and letting the buzz of the television relax him for the first time all night. He's not sure when the noise finally lulls him to sleep, but the next time he opens his eyes it's a little lighter than it was when he wandered into the living room.

It takes him a few seconds to realize he's not alone, and he'd think he was dreaming except that there's a warm hand on his shoulder, and another pulling the remote out of his hand. 

"I thought you were still snowed in," he says, his voice too loud suddenly and it turns out that he doesn't really mind the silence so much when he's not in it alone.

"They re-opened the airport a few hours ago. I didn't want to waste time calling and take a chance I'd miss the first flight back."

He lets Tyler pull him off the couch, turning the TV off before he slides his arms around Speed's waist and leans in for a kiss. He's still wearing all his clothes, and Speed slides one hand under an obnoxiously colored button-down to rest against Tyler's stomach. "Why didn't you call when you landed? I would have picked you up."

"I didn't want to wake you," Tyler says, pressing a little closer and leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Speed's mouth. "You sounded pretty tired on the phone."

And he was – tired of sleeping alone, tired of rattling around an empty house and wishing this week would hurry up and end so he could stop torturing himself with all the things that could happen to Tyler between there and here. But that's all over now, because unless this is a really vivid dream Tyler's right back where he belongs, and Speed's not planning to let him out of his sight any time soon.

Instead of answering he turns into Tyler's kisses, lips parted and tongue pressing past Tyler's teeth. He's moving slow, committing every taste, every touch to memory, like the mint on Tyler's tongue and the hands sliding up and down his back. And it's hard to believe that just a few hours ago he was making himself crazy with a hundred maudlin thoughts about never seeing Tyler again, but it makes him hold on a little tighter and by the time he lets Tyler up for air he can't tell where he starts and Tyler ends.

"Mmm," Tyler murmurs, smug smile obvious even in the dark. "Maybe I should go away more often."

Speed chokes back a forceful 'no way', swallows 'forget it' and 'over my dead body' too, because he missed Tyler more than he wants to admit, but Tyler doesn't need to know it. Instead he just shakes his head and pushes Tyler forward, toward the hall that leads to the bedroom. "Maybe you should come with me to that conference next month if you like traveling so much."

The words are out of his mouth before he even realizes he's thinking them, but he doesn't regret saying it. They've never gone anywhere together, after all, and even though he'd have to work part of the time, they'd get to spend their nights together.

"Yeah?" Tyler says, trying hard to sound casual but Speed can hear the nervous edge in his voice, like maybe he's worried that Speed's just kidding. 

"Yeah," he answers, pushing Tyler back onto their bed and sliding in next to him. "It's not as exciting as a whole week with your family, but..."

He grins against Tyler's neck when he laughs, heart skipping a beat at the sound he's been waiting seven days to hear. "Remind me never to fly back to Minnesota in the winter again, no matter how much my mother nags me. I thought I was never going to get out of there."

Speed doesn't tell him that he doesn't have to worry about it. The thought of going through another week like this one…but he doesn't want to think about that right now, because Tyler's back, just a few hours later than he originally planned, and there's no more weight pressing down on his chest. 

"What time is it?" he murmurs against Tyler's neck, eyes closed and for the first time all week he thinks he might be able to sleep after all. 

"Almost 5:00. Are you working tomorrow?"

Speed murmurs a vague negative against Tyler's skin, punctuating it with another kiss. He smiles wearily when Tyler laughs and runs a hand through his hair, shifting far enough to kick off his shoes before he presses in close to Speed again. "Good. Get some sleep, I've got plans for you later."

Speed laughs and lets Tyler push him onto his back, pulling Tyler with him to settle against his side. A hundred and sixty-three hours. And suddenly it doesn't seem like so long to wait after all.


End file.
